The scorched valley vanished behind them as Xander drew the shadows tight around their forms. Space bent beneath his will, reality folding inward as a fleeting portal carried them away from the reach of the hunters.
A heartbeat later, they emerged at the edge of a dense forest.
Ancient trees towered overhead, their roots thick and twisted, their branches weaving a canopy that dimmed the light. Leaves rustled softly in the breeze, whispering secrets older than kingdoms.
The air was cool here, heavy with the scent of moss and damp earth, a sharp contrast to the suffocating heat of the valley they had fled.
Lilith stumbled as they came through.
Her flames flickered weakly across her skin, no longer roaring but sputtering like dying embers. She caught herself against the rough bark of a nearby tree, breath unsteady.
The ritual had taken more from her than she wanted to admit, and the brief clash with Xander had only pushed her further.
She glanced at him, golden eyes narrowing.
"That was too close," she said. "Your interference nearly got us both dragged into the abyss."
Xander studied her in silence. Shadows curled at his feet, slow and watchful, like patient beasts awaiting command.
"Without it," he replied evenly, "you would already be gone. Gratitude is unnecessary. Accuracy is not."
She scoffed and crossed her arms, chin lifting in stubborn defiance. "Gratitude? From me? Don't flatter yourself. I would have dealt with them eventually."
The words rang hollow.
A sharp wince crossed her face as she shifted her weight, revealing the truth she tried to hide. Along her side, a deep gash burned angrily where one of the flaming chains had torn into her flesh. Infernal fire struggled to seal it, flaring and fading in uneven pulses.
Xander's gaze flicked to the wound.
He said nothing.
But the darkness at his feet stirred, attentive.
Xander's gaze lingered on the injury, the blood there shimmering with infernal light. "You're wounded," he said. "That will slow us down."
"It's nothing," Lilith snapped. She pushed herself away from the tree, only for her step to falter. A sharp breath slipped past her lips.
The fire in her veins fought to close the wound, but the remnants of the ritual clung to her like poison, draining her strength and dulling her flames.
Xander moved before she could protest.
He approached without haste, his presence imposing yet strangely steady. When he stopped in front of her, he raised one hand, palm open.
Shadows gathered there, not sharp or violent, but muted and calm, glowing faintly like moonlight filtered through smoke.
"Allow me," he said.
Lilith's eyes narrowed. "What, you think I'm helpless now?" Her tone was sharp, defensive. "I don't need your pity."
"Not pity," Xander replied. His voice remained even, untouched by her barbs. "Pragmatism. We are allies, however briefly. And wounded allies become liabilities."
She bristled at the words, then hesitated.
Heat crept into her cheeks, not from her fire, but from the exposed vulnerability she hated acknowledging. In the Infernal Court, aid always carried a price. Mercy was a lie told before the knife came out.
Slowly, reluctantly, she turned her side toward him, revealing the gash carved by the enchanted chain.
"Fine," she muttered. "But try anything, and I burn you where you stand."
Xander inclined his head slightly, shadows tightening in his palm as he reached toward the wound.
He did not flinch.
Xander placed his hand over the gash, his touch cool against her heated skin. Shadows flowed from his palm, seeping into the wound like ink spreading through water.
They threaded carefully through her essence, not invading, but aligning. Darkness and fire met, neither overpowering the other, moving instead in a slow, deliberate balance.
Lilith stiffened at first.
Then the pain began to fade.
The shadows did more than knit flesh. Strength flowed with them, steady and controlled, a quiet transfer drawn from something deep and enduring within him. Not charity. Not dominance. A measured gift.
The wound sealed cleanly, leaving behind only a faint scar that glimmered once before fading into her skin.
Xander withdrew his hand and inclined his head slightly, the gesture respectful without being deferential.
"There," he said. "That should hold. Does it suffice?"
Lilith pressed her fingers to the spot, disbelief flickering across her face before she caught herself. Her flames flared brighter, more stable, answering the restored balance within her. She scoffed to cover the moment.
"Not bad," she said. "For a shadow-dweller." She shot him a sideways look. "Don't get any ideas. This doesn't make us allies forever."
A faint smile touched his lips. "Forever is irrelevant."
They began moving through the forest together, boots crunching softly over fallen leaves as the canopy filtered the crimson dawn into shifting patterns of light and shadow. For a time, neither spoke.
Then Xander broke the silence.
"Princess," he said, voice measured. "Your fire is not the sort born of court intrigue alone. What truly earned you banishment?"
Lilith's gaze stayed forward as she walked, jaw tightening.
"My father rules through fear," she said at last. "Lord Asmodeus built the Infernal Court on obedience and borrowed strength. Alliances with gods. Treaties that make demons kneel in exchange for scraps of power."
Her flames flickered with restrained fury. "I called it weakness. I said we were becoming servants instead of conquerors."
She let out a short, humorless breath.
"I said it in public."
Xander listened without interruption.
"He couldn't afford dissent," she continued. "Not from his own blood. So he made an example of me. Declared me a traitor and cast me toward oblivion, where rebellion is meant to die quietly."
She finally glanced at him, eyes burning.
"But I refused to disappear."
Xander's shadows stirred, responding to the weight of her words.
"Good," he said simply. "The world has enough rulers who demand silence."
And as they disappeared deeper into the forest, fire and shadow walking side by side, the first true fracture in the Infernal Court began to take shape.